Observing the Unseen
by Kaleidoscopic Panda Bear
Summary: (Rated T for language.) There was a thin line between being civil to someone and ignoring someone when you used to bully that certain person. Danny knew it, and Danny knew Dash knew it, but Danny didn't quite know where they stood now. "You look like crap, man," Dash said as they began walking to their class. "Yeah," another bad coughing fit, "You too, Dash. Thanks."


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Also, I know Dash technically owns that little rat dog named Pooky or something but I took liberty of giving him a manly German Shepherd named Rex so get over it.**

There was a thin line between being civil to someone and ignoring someone when you used to bully that certain person. Danny knew it, and Danny knew Dash knew it, but Danny didn't quite know where they stood now.

For the past few months, Dash had left him alone, but now, he had crossed the line and then some. A new kid had come to Casper High, and he had quickly fallen in with the popular crowd. That new kid, as four seconds ago, had also had Danny pinned to the lockers by his throat. The halfa wasn't about to deal with it; he was already injured, sick, sleep deprived and 300% done.

But before he could do anything, Dash had come up, grabbed the new kid's wrist, and bent it back at an unnatural angle. Danny was released almost instantly, a rough cough stifled in his elbow. When he looked back up, Dash was holding his previously dropped books out to him and the hallway was pretty much empty.

"You look like shit, man," Dash said, unceremoniously, as the began walking to their science class. "Yeah," another bad coughing fit; it almost sounded watery. "You too, Dash. Thanks."

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"Foley, with Manson," the teacher called out. Danny gave them a half-hearted dirty look, mouthing, 'lucky,' at them. "Kwan, with Lucas." _'Lucas McMullen. What a stupid name,' _Danny thought bitterly as he watched the two football players high-five over another kid's head. The kid winced at the sound. "Dash, with Fenton."

Danny almost missed it. His eyes widened, the forgotten agitation rising in his chest, before he literally watched Dash 'accidentally' knock the new kid's book to the floor as he walked past. McMullen stopped laughing at whatever Kwan had said to him, giving Dash a mean look behind his back as he grabbed his book up. Dash dropped into the empty seat next to Danny, not saying a word as the teacher continued to read off partners for the week long science project.

Danny sighed and slumped further down into his seat, holding his ribs awkwardly as they gave a sharp pain in protest. He didn't miss the slightly concerned look Dash gave him, either.

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After almost no debate, Danny and Dash had decided that Dash's house was the safer bet of the two. Danny's parents were just way too crazy to get anything done near them. The final bell had rung a few minutes ago, and Danny followed Dash's quick pace as fast as he could. His ribs still hurt, his ankle wasn't helping much, and he had popped his shoulder back into place twice now. The athlete's pace was hell for him.

Finally, after a while, Dash seemed to get it and slowed down to walk casually next to the injured halfa. "Sorry," "Thanks." The boys said it at the same time, sharing an awkward look before it was broken. Danny pitched forward, landing hard on his hands and knees. He had tripped over an upraised patch of the sidewalk, gasping almost inaudibly as pain wracked his left arm and jarred his wrists and ribs.

Danny stayed in that position for a few seconds, shoving himself onto his knees when he saw Dash pick his books up for the second time that day. "Jesus, Danny," the quarterback sighed out when he straightened up, "Be more careful; you're going to hurt yourself." Danny snorted at the irony of it. The snort turned into laughter, which turned into another coughing fit. He really hated being sick.

Dash hauled the smaller teen to his feet, holding onto him for a few seconds to be sure he had his balance back. "I'm good, Dash. Just tired as fuck," Danny mumbled, holding his hands out for his books. Dash just shook his head and continued walking. Danny shrugged; if Dash wanted to carry his books for him, Danny wasn't going to complain.

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When the pair made it up to Dash's room, the quarterback simply dropped the books onto his surprisingly clean bedroom floor, stepped past it and flung his closet door open. Danny kneeled down next to the books, sorting through everything and opening the books to the right page. Dash's noise of protest made him look back up though.

"Uh, no," the football player said, now clad in a dark red hoodie he had pulled out of the closet. Danny gave him a confused look. Dash motioned for him to get up, so he stood slowly and held his hands up in apprehension. Rolling his eyes, Dash simply pushed back on Danny's shoulders until the ebony haired teen was laying on his bed.

"You're sleeping," Dash explained shortly, tossing the covers over the other teen as he sputtered in protest. "But—I-we-the project, I can't-" Danny was cut off by another pillow hitting his face. "Fenton, shut the fuck up and rest."

Finally giving the fight up, Danny sighed in mock irritation and flipped over on his side to face Dash. The blonde was now sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, so Danny swatted the pillow back at him. "Thanks, man," the halfa said around a yawn. Before Dash could respond, Danny was out.

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The first time Danny woke up, it was dark out, but he could hear a conversation going on down in the kitchen. The halfa laid still for a few seconds, trying to figure out what had woken him up, when it hit him again.

Sitting up, Danny clapped a hand over his mouth. _Shit. _Bolting out of the room and down the hall to where he knew the bathroom was, he barely had time to nudge the door (somewhat) shut before he was throwing up. Dry heaving a few extra times, Danny groaned as his ribs began to hurt again. He just couldn't win.

Flushing the toilet and leaning back against the wall, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his waist loosely. Danny looked back up, though, when the door creaked open. A black nose followed by a tan muzzle shot through the door, followed by a large black and tan body and a wagging tail. Dash's German Shepherd, Rex.

The dog sat and panted and pawed at Danny for a few moments, forcing the halfa up off the floor out of pure irritation. Making his way back to Dash's room, leaning on the large mutt for support, Danny was actually kind of thankful for being in the calmer household.

Just before Rex steered Danny into the dark room, Dash appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hey, you alright?" the quarterback's tone was hushed, as if afraid of being overheard. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just- stomach being stupid," letting his fingers slip through the dog's fur. He was still holding his ribs, and Dash gave him an unconvinced look.

Without waiting for a response, Danny turned and walked back into Dash's room, flopping down on the bed as Rex climbed in after him. From the light filtering in from the hallway, Dash could clearly see the bruises on Danny's lower stomach where his shirt was riding up.

He scowled and said nothing, walking back downstairs to help his mom with dinner.

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The second time Danny woke up, Rex had his head on his bruised and exposed stomach, Dash was rustling around in the closet, and the dawn light was streaming through the bedroom window. At some point during the night, Danny had unconsciously shed his shirt and was now internally freaking out.

His last ghost fight had been rough; he had been thrown, and before he had had the chance to turn intangible, Danny had smacked right into a lamp post. A couple of smaller bruises dotted his lower stomach and waist line, but a huge, dark and thick bruise ran from his left shoulder down to his right hip. He was fucked if Dash figured out he was awake.

As if picking up on his thoughts, Rex lifted his head up, and, without warning, swatted Danny on the stomach with his large paw. On instinct, Danny shot up and placed a hand where the paw had hit him. "Dude," Danny practically whined; Rex simply yipped playfully yet quietly at him. The halfa glared. _'Damn dog,' _he thought.

The light flipped on then, reminding Danny that he and the dog were not alone. "Rex, down," Dash commanded softly. The German Shepherd yipped again, his ears falling back as he rolled over. Dash sighed in aggravation. "He's alright," Danny whispered hoarsely, patting the dog's stomach as Rex thumped his tail.

Dash was silent for a moment as he pulled a clean shirt over his head. "I called your house last night." When Dash only received a wary glance, he continued, "A girl answered. Figured it was your sister, since she said your parents weren't home. Anyway, she said you can stay here for as long as you'd like," Danny simply nodded his head, distracted as his arm looped around his naked torso again.

Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Dash sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Blue eyes slowly traced over the bruises that were visible, a question clearly wanting to be asked. Danny cleared his throat in embarrassment, slightly relieved when Dash's eyes flickered up to his and then away all together.

"Hey, uh, your parents...They don't- at home, nobody wails on ya', do they?" The question was tense, Dash stumbling over his own words as if he was afraid of Danny's response. His reaction. Furrowing his brow in confusion for half a second, Danny shook his head slightly. "N-no. My parents aren't around enough to pay _that _much attention to me," Danny chuckled nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

Dash visibly relaxed, sighing and rubbing his hands over his face. He muttered something about neglect being the same as abuse, but Danny chose to ignore it. "Well, I'm going to school. You, go back to sleep or something. I'll bring home your work and shit, just...rest. You need it," the quarterback got up off the bed, heading for the door. Before he could leave though, Danny called out to him.

"Hey, what time is it?" Pausing to glance back at Danny and flick off the light, Dash mumbled, "Too fuckin' early." He watched as Danny flopped back down on the bed, curling onto his side almost instantly. Dash could see each and every ridge of the halfa's spine, and he thought with a bit of malice, _'Too skinny.' _His stomach roiled uncomfortably.

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Danny didn't remember falling asleep again, but when he woke up this time, the sunlight was dancing across his face and he was using Rex as a pillow. It took the halfa a few seconds to realize that he was also wearing the dark red hoodie that Dash had had on the other day. He didn't remember ever putting it on, but then again, his mind wasn't exactly right at the moment. It was also very possible that someone had put it on him; he didn't know.

Danny sat up finally, groaning at his stiff joints and aching ribs. His head was spinning. After going to the bathroom and slowly making his way downstairs with Rex's help, Danny located the kitchen and headed in that direction. He wasn't expecting Dash's mother to be sitting at the kitchen table, though, and he jumped violently at the scare.

She looked up from the newspaper to give him an odd look. "You alright there, honey?" Her dirty blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, she had loose jeans on and a flannel over a pink tank top. Overall, she looked sporty. At least Danny knew where Dash got it from. All she got for an answer was a yawn that turned into a watery, painful cough.

She scowled, putting the paper down and motioning the sick kid over to her. Danny slowly walked over, sitting down next to her in an empty chair. Without warning, she pushed his bangs up and felt his forehead for a high temperature. "Uh, Mrs. Baxter-" she tsk'ed at him, pulling away and waving his sentence away.

"Don't call me that, it makes me feel old. My name's Jillian, but most everyone calls me Jill." The woman smiled at Danny, moving out of his personal space and turning to rustle around with her coffee cup and the forgotten newspaper. Then, she seemed to jump back to what she had been doing before: making Danny the center of attention.

"Oh, honey, where are my manors? Do you want some medicine, or are you hungry? I can cook for you," Jillian got up from her seat and rushed around the table to the stove. Danny hadn't said anything, but she was already getting pancaked mix down and everything else, so Danny sat quietly at the table and let Jillian cook and chat at him while the dog batted at his feet and legs under his chair.

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Dash came through the front door, iPod blaring in his ears as he maneuvered around Rex and his dropped backpack to the kitchen doorway. Looking up finally and pausing his music, Dash froze. "Uh, hey, Mom. Danny," the quarterback didn't really know what to say; his mom was painting her nails at the kitchen table, which was normal enough, sure.

But Danny was sitting in the chair opposite of her, in the hoodie that he had slipped onto his sleeping friend earlier this morning, cutting out coupons for his mom. _(And were Danny's nails painted, too?) _Dash arched his eyebrow in question, but didn't say anything. "Hey, Dash," the halfa said as his mom waved. Dash didn't really know if it was a wave or an attempt to dry her nails, but he took it as a greeting, anyway.

As the pair continued to chat aimlessly over the table, Dash slowly backed out of the room. "Fucking weirdos," he muttered.


End file.
